Something about tight leather pants
by Bookjunk
Summary: Oliver/Felicity one-shot. Excerpt: 'You always keep your arms away from your body a little. Like a Ken doll. Sorry. I mean, like an action figure,' Felicity said.


**Something about tight leather pants**

'You might want to relax your arms,' Felicity instructed. Oliver sighed. Easier said than done.

'How?'

'I don't know,' she replied, immediately tacking on a suggestion, 'Just let them hang, I guess. You always keep them away from your body a little. Like a Ken doll. Sorry. I mean, like an action figure.'

'Is that meant to be marginally less insulting?' he asked, giving up attempting to change his posture to look at her. Felicity nodded eagerly.

'Yes, definitely, because when I think of a Ken doll the first thing I think of... You know... That it has no _equipment_,' she answered, stage whispering the last word. Oliver didn't need to see Diggle to know that this conversation would tickle the other man to no end. One glance confirmed that, yes; Diggle was trying – not very hard, mind you – to keep from laughing.

'I assure you that I'm nothing like a Ken doll,' Oliver told Felicity in a severe deadpan. She squeezed her lips tightly shut, which was unlike her. When he frowned, she quickly offered an explanation.

'I'm not going to respond to that. Because if I do I'll probably say something that could be interpreted the wrong way. I usually do. So, I'm just not going to respond if that's alright.'

'That's fine.'

Relieved, she beamed at him. Oliver continued his quest to adopt a more natural stance. He lifted his shoulders and held them there for few seconds. Then he pushed them back as far as he could, until the tension in his muscles became unbearable and he had no choice but to relax them. No trouble there. His arms, though, Oliver was forced to agree, remained more than a little rigid. Sort of fixed at his sides. Thanks to Felicity he was now starting to think that this looked less than impressive. Maybe even goofy.

'Do I look goofy? Not you, Diggle. I'm asking Felicity,' Oliver warned. He could just about guess what Diggle would say. Diggle loved making fun of him.

'Great. Now I've made you feel insecure. I've made Oliver Queen feel insecure,' Felicity mumbled, half talking to herself, half talking to the two men.

'Okay, you can be very, _these are not the droids you're looking for_,' Felicity admitted. She moved her arms jerkily in imitation of a robot. Diggle snickered and Oliver had to clamp down a smile. He wondered whether she knew that she looked cute as hell when she did that.

'But nobody would ever call you goofy. I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously handsome and when you smile it's like wow. Uhm, I think I speak for all of us when I say that,' she finished, blushing. Embarrassment suits her, Oliver thought. The thought made him feel a little guilty.

'You really don't,' Diggle interjected. She turned to him with her cheeks still tinged a lovely shade of pink and granted him an indulgent smile.

'Oh, come on. You also find Oliver attractive,' she insisted.

'Nope,' Diggle stated, shaking his head. Felicity narrowed her eyes.

'Are you doing that guy thing where you're afraid that if you compliment another man people will think...?'

'Are you doing that thing where you're trying to distract us from, _oh, Oliver, when you smile, it's like wow_? 'Cause it's not working,' Diggle grinned. Felicity swivelled her chair, turning her back on both of them. If this was supposed to hide her dismay then it didn't have the desired effect. Oliver could still detect the evidence of her acute mortification in how clumsily - and at times downright violently – she approached her keyboard.

Suddenly, she swivelled back around. Oliver smiled at her. For a variety of reasons. To show her that he didn't mind the awkward praise. To set her at ease. Mostly, though, he smiled because she liked his smile. Felicity was not wowed.

'You don't have to look so smug. Yes, you're good looking. We know. Diggle knows, even if he doesn't want to admit it. It's not an accomplishment. Your face is just your face. Not something you can take credit for. And it would become you if you didn't use your looks to deliberately fluster people. It's cruel.'

_What the fuck?_ Bewildered, the two men exchanged a look.

'Don't you have somewhere else to be?' Oliver inquired, staring pointedly at Diggle.

'Yeah, sure. How about I'll get to that thing that I was supposed to do right now?' Diggle said, not even bothering to play along with the conceit. Not remotely credibly at least. Once Diggle had gone, Oliver's eyes went straight to Felicity's hands. She was a fidgety person. Her hands always betrayed her every emotion. For as long as Oliver has known her, that had been his way of reading her. This made it all the more disconcerting when her fingers stayed absolutely still. No hand wringing or waving. Oliver felt curiously off-balance without the visual cues he had grown accustomed to. Quickly, he bridged the distance between them. He stopped in front of her and leaned in.

'What were you talking about?' he asked. Irritated, Felicity scooted her chair back.

'This. You. Standing so close. Brushing against me. Don't pretend you don't know how that affects me. You know. You do it on purpose and I wish you'd stop,' she spelled out, conspicuously taking care not to touch him while she got out of the chair. Oliver immediately withdrew.

'I'm sorry. I don't mean to,' he apologised. Felicity nodded, clearly unconvinced, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She looked very uncomfortable, which was the last thing he wanted.

It was impossible not to notice that his proximity did something to Felicity. Personally, Oliver found her bumbling behaviour around him adorable. However, that was not why he often forgot to keep his distance. It was not why he enjoyed any and all physical contact between them.

'I don't want to cause you any distress. That's not my intention at all. I want you to feel at home here. We need you,' he said.

'See, now, that pisses me off,' Felicity replied.

'Excuse me?'

'Sometimes you say 'we' when you mean 'I.' And I know that I do that too. It's different, though, because when I say 'we' everyone knows exactly when I'm really saying 'I.' But when _you _say it, I don't know. As a result I pathetically lie awake at night parsing your words. It's unfair, because I'm in love with you, which, incidentally, you already knew. You know how I feel about you without me having to say it, but I have zero idea how you feel about me. Can you imagine how incredibly annoying...'

Oliver kissed her. Felicity actually tried to continue talking while he was doing this. He could feel the words against his lips. He paid them no mind. He concentrated on kissing her, raising his hands to cup her face. When Felicity eased into the kiss, he exercised some restraint and paced himself.

Her mouth wasn't the only thing that received his undivided attention. Her cheekbones were next. After tending to them, he covered her jaw line with kisses, all the way up to her ear. This. Oliver could have done this with his eyes closed. He was intimately familiar with Felicity's face: he had been mapping out the contours of it in his mind for a long time.

Pausing every now and then to apply some tongue, his mouth slid lower across the soft skin of her throat. Each kiss elicited another breathy moan from Felicity. He came to need that noise and the way she gripped his shoulders a little tighter when he hit a sensitive spot. It was addicting.

Oliver caressed the places where he'd kissed her. There. There. There. His fingers followed his mouth. They skimmed over her burning skin when his mouth was already off exploring something else. There was always more to taste, more to touch. Oliver alternated not quite chaste pecks with passionate open-mouthed kisses and the occasional swipe of tongue. Being thorough wasn't a crime. Not that this would have deterred him.

Despite the lazy rhythm, Oliver felt that maybe things were moving too fast. So, he attempted to stop. He rested his forehead against Felicity's, nudging her nose with the tip of his nose, their breaths ghosting over each other's cheeks. Then he slid his nose slowly up and down her nose. It was a strange catlike gesture. Was he stroking her with his nose? What _was _he doing? Anyway, he might as well press a little kiss to the corners of her mouth. No harm in that. And while his lips were there, it would be almost wasteful not to give her a proper kiss. This will be the last one, he reasoned. Until their mouths met again. Her hands fluttered against his back. Oliver smiled and licked a little deeper.

That in turn led to more kissing. Simply because Oliver couldn't resist. There was something so smooth about it. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally managed to pull away. Felicity's eyes were sparkling.

'That... clears that up,' she chuckled. Her voice was unsteady. Her knees appeared wobbly too. Oliver's own knees weren't very reliable either.

'I'm surprised that you didn't know.'

'Were there signs? Did I miss them?'

'Let's just say that I've never in my life touched anyone's shoulder as much as I've touched yours. I like how you close your eyes briefly when I do that. As if you're savouring the moment.'

'Oh, I am,' she confessed. They smiled at each other. When she dropped her gaze, Oliver tilted up her chin, so that he could look into her eyes.

'I think you're amazing,' he said, softly.

'Really? Don't get me wrong, I know that I posses certain qualities. I just didn't think they were qualities that you would be interested in.'

'Felicity, I love you and I'm in love with you and I'm still falling more in love with you every second of every minute of every day.'

This time she initiated the kiss. He placed his hands on either side of her face, preparing for more of the same leisurely kissing. Unfortunately, Felicity abruptly broke it off, apparently to chew on her lip. Oliver just wanted to bite it for her.

'There's no need to be gentle. It's sweet, but it's also frustrating. A little less tenderness would be okay,' she informed him.

'How's this?' he asked, while he lifted her onto the desk. Her keyboard clattered to the floor. Oliver waited to see how she'd respond. Oh my God, he thought when she hiked up her skirt and spread her legs. The icing on the cake was the expression on her face that accompanied the action: shy. Instinctively, he moved in between her parted knees. He caught her earlobe between his lips, licked it and raked his teeth over the supple flesh. Felicity's springy hair tickled his face while he continued to play with her lobe. He breathed in her shampoo. It was almost more a flavour than a scent. Fresh fruit not yet fully ripened. Somewhere between sweet and sour. Apples maybe?

The material of her blouse proved surprisingly sturdy. He had to tug twice before it ripped. By the time he was done buttons were bouncing off every possible surface. When Felicity suddenly buried her face in the crook of his neck, Oliver's heart skipped a beat.

'Is that alright? Felicity? Are you alright?'

Her eyelashes flickered against his throat. She clutched his shoulders to keep from shaking. He realised that she was using him to stifle her giddy laughter. Without a word of warning, she tore his shirt from neckline to hemline in one smooth motion. She leaned back to survey the damage with a pleased smile. Stunned, he looked at her.

'Guess I'm better at this than you,' she taunted, daring him to try and outdo her. Oliver smirked. Oh, he could be rough. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd fantasised about throwing Felicity down on one of the training mats. Well, no time like the present. He grabbed her by the waist and carried her over to the exercise area. Brusquely, he dropped her flat on her back on the mat. She let out a startled yelp upon impact. Again, he reacted with concern.

'You okay?'

Felicity sighed, exasperated.

'This isn't going to be much fun if you keep stopping to ask me that. From now on, feel free to assume that I'm having the time of my life. Can you do that?'

Oliver shrugged. Honestly, he wasn't sure. He didn't want to end up hurting her. She looked as if something occurred to her.

'Pretend that we're sparring,' she suggested. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

'What? You never ask _Diggle _if he's okay,' she added.

'Kind of different,' Oliver pointed out. She looked sceptical.

'Is it? I don't know what goes on between you when I'm not here,' she teased. In mock outrage, he pinned her to the mat. He briefly paused to drink in the awe-inspiring sight beneath him before bringing her wrists together above her head and wrapping the fingers of his left hand securely around them both. Now she was completely at his mercy. His for the taking.

That felt scary, yet intoxicating. The thrill of her body under his was so much better than anything he could have imagined. He especially liked how she reacted to the slightest shift in his weight. Felicity pretended to be unaffected, but her steely gaze faltered when his free hand drifted to her bra. He traced the lacy edges of it, blowing on the delicate nubs standing out against the fabric. Her breathing quickened. He trailed his fingers along her stomach. She jerked against his grip. Determined not to spoil their pleasure by being overly sensitive, Oliver followed her instructions and continued. He lightly grazed his nails over her ribcage. Felicity wriggled in his grasp.

'Hey, no tickling!' she protested. She hooked her legs around him, grinding her hips. That threw him for a second, which was all the time she needed to gain the upper hand. She rolled over, straddled him and dipped her hand below the waist of his pants. That earned her a sharp intake of breath from Oliver. She promptly removed the offending hand.

'Something wrong? Should I stop?' she inquired innocently. Oliver growled and flipped them over again. He sucked and then bit her neck. He thought about the things he wanted to do to her while he was doing them. Finally, finally, Felicity was his.

(***)

The next morning.

Oliver was still full of sensations of the previous evening. His skin felt tingly and hot at the thought of Felicity. Underneath him. On top of him. Around him. Felicity arching her back. Felicity curling her toes. Felicity quivering in his arms. He shook his head to keep from drifting off into daydreams.

Then he thought about the comment that had started it all and doubt crept in. With each step Oliver took he became more aware of his arms. Self-conscious about them, in fact. Did they move? Yes, they were moving. Should they move? Were they moving the right way? Too stilted? Too much? Too little? Was he going to be ridiculous about this forever? Felicity noted the stiffness in his limbs when he emerged from the elevator and greeted him accordingly.

'Hi Ken,' she chirped in a perky voice. Oliver glared at her.

'You're horrible.'

'That's not what you said last night,' she teased, watching him as he took a seat behind his desk.

'What if I start calling you Barbie?'

'You wouldn't dare,' she said, hovering in the doorway. 'You do realise that we're a cliché, don't you? The CEO with his secretary. Should I sit in your lap to complete the stereotype?'

'We're not a cliché, because you're not really my secretary, remember?' Oliver replied. Felicity's answering smile brightened the room. Now_ that_ was a cliché.

'Secret identities. Got ya.'

She playfully cocked her fingers at him. They smiled at each other. She stared pointedly at his desk. Oliver followed her gaze, but could detect nothing out of the ordinary. Frowning, he looked back at Felicity. She was in the process of letting her hair down. That triggered more memories. Her hair brushing his face as she bent down to kiss him. The rich scent of fresh apples in his nose. The taste of her on his tongue: tangy and delicious. He swallowed.

I'm going to make love to her, Oliver thought. Right here. In broad daylight. In the office. On this desk. He cleared his desk as fast he could before turning around in time to have Felicity back him into it. Her hipbone was digging into his thigh in the best possible way.

'Last night. After I denied any resemblance to Ken. What would you have said?' he asked.

'Something about tight leather pants. Bulges that are hard to overlook. Ugh, _hard_. See how I dig a hole for myself? Thank God we had sex. Now I can say all sorts of stuff about your package without getting embarrassed.'

A cough from the doorway brought them up short. Diggle was standing there; looking stern and faintly amused. An impossible combination that he somehow managed to pull off.

'Some people might not want to hear about Oliver's package, though. Some people might be traumatised by the casual mention of their pretend boss's privates. Some people...'

'Yeah, yeah. We get it. I'm sorry,' Felicity hastily said. She blushed. That will never not be completely charming, Oliver thought. He took her hands into his own and kissed her knuckles. They were interrupted by a second cough.

'Do I have somewhere else to be again?' Diggle asked them.

'If you want to avoid that trauma you were talking about...'

He had disappeared before Oliver could finish his sentence. Felicity giggled. Oliver smiled. It felt as if he would never stop smiling. Finally, finally, he was hers.

The end.


End file.
